My clubs alive tonight — bass booming, bodies grinding on the dance floor, people making out everywhere you look. The floor is sticky with spilled drinks, the air thick with sweat, smoke and cheap perfume.

This place disgusts me when I’m not in the mood for a quick fuck. I don’t particularly like owning a club, but it’s good for making the money that I make from my empire look legal.

Neon red strobe lights cast a glow over everyone’s faces as I watch on from the stairs that lead to my office. There’s a lot of hot women here — many that have tried to hook up with me in the past, and many that I have infact bent over my desk, but they don’t move me.

It’s you that I’m looking for. Always looking for.

I often see you in my club, you always stand out from the rest. You don’t look tacky and cheap like the majority of women that come here — you’re sophisticated and untouchable. Like you belong somewhere better, but you keep showing up in my world anyway.

I’ve tried to talk to you a few times — you shut me down every fucking time. It’s infuriating but it is also attractive. I know you’re older than me, that much is obvious by the company you keep. Whenever you’re here you’re always sat with people who look like they’re in their last thirties or early forties — me on the other hand, I’m twenty five.

Niall — my second in command — saunters over, a knowing look on his face. I’m guessing that pricks bar shift has ended. “Boss, are you looking for her again?”

I shoot him a death glare, jaw clenching. “Shut the fuck up, Niall.”

His lips part like he’s about to speak, he looks over to the VIP booth and I follow his gaze.

It’s you.

You’re sat with a few women and a few men — all rich, snobby looking twats. My hands clench into fists, watching as one of the men lean a little too close while talking to you.

Niall nudges my arm, snapping me out of my daze. “Boss, you know she’s not interested, she’s made that obvious. Probably prefers someone her own age.”

“She can keep acting like she’s above me just because she has some years on me,” I smirk, but there’s no humour in it. “She’ll realise sooner or later that I have far more to give than those bald pricks.” My eyes wander to the men sat at your booth.

He shakes his head. “You don’t want a gold digger, boss, and by the looks of things your money is the only way you could interest her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Niall, if she wanted money she’d already be in my bed,” I pause, watching you laugh at something one of those pricks next to you said. “She’s not a gold digger, she’s just stupid enough to think I won’t wait her out.”

He scoffs. “Or maybe she’s just smart enough to not fall for another charming prick with blood on his hands, she definitely knows you’re a mob boss — everyone who comes here does.”

I ignore Niall and make my way to the VIP booth, the second I step up to your table, the man sitting next to you shifts — like he knows to make space. He should. This is my club.

You look up slowly, eyes landing on me like I’m just another uninvited guest.

“Harry Styles,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “You do know I’m ten years older than you, don’t you?”

I grin, ignoring the people watching us. “I’d say that makes you seasoned.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Seasoned?”

“Mature. Sharp. Knows what she wants.” I slide my fingers along the back of your chair but don’t touch you. “I like that.”

You glance at your drink, swirling the ice around like I haven’t earned your full attention. “You’re twenty-five, Harry. You own a club, you play mob boss, and you flirt like a boy who thinks confidence is the same as charm.”

I laugh, deep in my chest. “You think I’m playing?”

You tilt your head, finally meeting my gaze. “I think you’re pretty. And have too much power for your own good. But you’re used to women falling over themselves to impress you. That’s not me.”

I lean down a little, dropping my voice just enough so only you hear me. “Then impress me, darlin’. For once in your life, stop pretending you’re above it.”